BlackLivesMatter
by fewcherwriter
Summary: This story has taken a different direction. Focused on Black Lives, absolutely. Note in CH. 3/then Sandra Bland chapter 4. ETA: Some info at the end.
1. Chapter 1

#BlackLivesMatter

Stef sat in the driveway. She'd just finished the fifth consecutive fifteen hour shift. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the window. The silence was welcome after hours of standing in front of protestors. Sighing, Stef went into the house.

"You're home," Jude beamed greeting his mom.

Doing her best to leave work at the door, Stef gave him a hug, "hey, bud." She watched the game Jude was playing for a few minutes, "how was school?" She asked.

Not taking his eyes from the game Jude shrugged, "good. I think Algebra is going to be kind of hard, but it's OK."

"Ah, I'm sure Mama or Marianna can help," she suggested. Taking the grunt as hint Jude was done talking, Stef smiled. "Twenty more minutes, then probably time to get ready for bed," she walked up the stairs.

Callie saw Stef coming toward the room and gave her a small wave, "hey."

Leaning on the doorframe, Stef returned the wave, "hey. Where's Marianna?"

"I don't know," Callie shrugged, "maybe the kitchen?" She was working on a journal response for English. It was the first assignment for the year. They'd read "Letters From Birmingham Jail" and Timothy wanted them to write a letter back to Dr. King. Callie didn't like abstract assignments so she'd been struggling all evening.

Stef nodded, she hadn't even looked in the kitchen. The only reason she hadn't fallen over was because the wall was holding her up. "Brandon in the shower?" She asked.

Callie nodded, "Lena is in your room. Jesus is in his room. I'm in my room, and I kind of need to finish this so," she trailed off. It was true, her homework needed to be done, but Stef looked exhausted. Callie didn't want her to feel obligated to make small talk.

"OK, OK," Stef turned, unbuckling her service belt as she walked into the bedroom. Lena was stretched out, working on her computer. With a loud groan, Stef fell on the bed.

Taking her glasses off, Lena leaned over to kiss her wife, "hey babe," she greeted her. Shutting the computer, Lena picked up Stef's belt and took it over to the closet. "Rough day?" She asked slipping beside Stef.

"Ugh," Stef answered. With her eyes closed she unpinned her hair, rubbing her sore scalp. Turning toward Lena, she offered a weary smile, "it's just a lot." She'd arrested at least five young girls today. "The things they yell. The chants are one thing, but the face to face screaming is a whole other level," Stef pressed the heel of her hand into her eye. "I mean what's their end game? Those of us standing opposite of them for days can do nothing. We're following orders from our bosses. Roberts was in charge for a few hours this evening, and I was literally scared for her life." Shaking her head, Stef shrugged, "they just hate us so incredibly deep."

Lena ran her hands through Stef's hair. It was stiff from sweat. There was a shift in her wife's attitude this evening. A sort of resignation had crept into her voice. Lena knew she was tired, physically and mentally. It wasn't pleasant to see Stef in this condition, but there was a lot of the protestor's message Lena agreed with. She'd been the twins age when Rodney King had been beaten. Her mother was finishing her PhD at UCLA, and the aftermath of the verdict had colored a lot of her early adulthood. "I hear ya, hon," Lena said softly.

"You hear me?" Stef propped herself up on an elbow giving Lena an incredulous look, "really, Lena? You hear me."

"Honey," Lena sighed sitting up, "why don't you get a shower, and I'll fix you some dinner."

Setting her jaw, Stef rolled her eyes, "I'm not hungry. Some of the spouses brought dinner into the headquarters."

Stef's implied message wasn't lost on Lena, "don't do this, Babe."

"What?" Stef bent down to untie her shoes, "I mean I stand in the August sun for twelve hours, wear forty pounds of riot gear. Get spit on, accused of being less than human, and there appears to be no end in sight." She set her boots at the foot of the bed, "for what? I didn't shoot Mike Brown. We aren't the enemy."

Before she could censor herself, Lena reacted, "you're not the victim, either, Stef." She regretted the statement as soon as it was out, "I'm sorry."

"Do you think this is an option, Lena? It's not like I have a choice-" Stef's voice rose.

"It is a choice. You have chosen to be a police officer. You're good at your job, and I am proud of you, but it is a choice," Lena countered. "You take the uniform off. The Black kids standing across from you don't have the luxury of changing their skin color. Regardless of how good of a cop you are, there is a bias toward young, Black men and women."

Stef shook her head, "this is my career. It's how we support this family. I can't exactly quit and start bussing tables." She stood up, stepping out of her pants, "I know there's a bias. It's reflective of the crime."

"So if you're stuck in your career," Lena air quoted much to Stef's ire, "then work on changing the bias."

Stef laughed bitterly, "it's that simple, huh, Lena. A large part of the problem is people like you, with all of this education making policy when they haven't stood on the front line. Sitting in air conditioned offices at City Hall or lecture halls at Stanford really qualifies a person to pass judgment on our experience."

Lena looked away. Stef's words hurt. "Please, go shower."

Pausing, Stef turned back to Lena, "look, I just feel so helpless. I like clear, quick solutions."

"I know," Lena allowed. "Unfortunately, that's not the reality. There's such deep rooted issues that will not be resolved in a few days. I just remember so many times walking back to our dorm or down the street police would stop us simply because we were a group of young, Black men and women. Have you ever been patted down?" Stef shook her head. "It's not pleasant or simple like it looks on TV. It's invasive and demeaning," Lena explained.

Stef sat back on the bed, taking Lena's hand, "these kids are just so angry."

"They're in pain, Stef. Their parents do the best they can, they go to schools that aren't serving them, taught by teachers that don't know them. See violence they can't understand. Then get caught up in a system designed to handicap them. Listen to what they are saying. Ignore how it's being said," Lena suggested. "Imagine having a neighborhood kid lying on the ground on our street for four and half hours," she shuddered. "No circumstance justifies that."

"Yeah," Stef agreed. She knew police practices were far from ideal. Being married to Lena gave Stef an opportunity to have a deeper perspective than many of her coworkers. It was just such a difficult position to be in. "I'm going to shower," she unbuttoned her shirt. "You may want to check on Jude. I told him to put the game away around now," Stef picked up her pants and shirt. "I love you, Lena," she cupped Lena's cheek and kissed the top of her head. "I am sorry you had to experience all of the profiling."

Lena leaned into Stef's hand. She knew Stef wasn't racist and she was a good cop. Still, not being racist wasn't enough. That was a conversation for a different time, though, "love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

Black Lives Matter Pt. 2

A/N: I had no intentions of continuing this story. But here we are. So, here it is.  
ETA:(I edited this thanks to the Guest reviewer. I tried to make the conversation smoother; however, the choppiness of that particular situation was partially purposeful because race is a hard conversation. the easier edit was making the distinction of who was where Thank you for letting me know. Appreciate the feedback.)

Lena's sleep had been unsettled after the conversation she'd had with Stef. By the time she made it to the kitchen the kids were in various stages of finishing breakfast. Thankfully, she smelt coffee. "Thanks for making coffee," Lena said to Callie as she poured a mug then filled her travel mug knowing there wasn't going to be time for a second cup at home. "For once I mean that sincerely-."

"Thanks, but wasn't me," Callie answered. "Mama came down looking like-"

"Like that walker Michonne killed when she was tied to that post. Remember that one?" Jesus looked over at Brandon who nodded, wordlessly eating his cereal.

Lena looked at Jesus skeptically, "what?"

"Walking Dead," he replied nonchalantly.

"Yeah, we had a Season 3 marathon a few weeks ago when we spent the weekend with Dad," Brandon jumped to explain why Jesus had been watching a show Stef and Lena had adamantly banned.

Narrowing her eyes, Lena accepted the explanation with a sigh, "I'm sure Mom didn't look like a zombie, Son."

"I don't know, Mama," Jude slid behind her to reach the sink, "she didn't even tease Marianna about being ready early."

Smiling at Jude's earnestness, Lena kissed the top of his head, "well, maybe Mom knew her presence at the table didn't guarantee she was ready." Grabbing her bagel, Lena looked at the clock, "like if she doesn't come back down in three minutes-"

"Marianna left already. She was up early," Callie looked up from her notebook. "Said she was meeting Mat or Tia or someone, I didn't really catch it." Roughly running her fingers through her hair, she tossed her pen in her bag before throwing her book on top of it.

"Book hurt you?" Brandon gave her a small smile, picking up her cereal bowl to wash with his.

Rolling her eyes Callie's words came out harder than she intended, "no but your face is."

Turning on the steps, Lena glared at the kids. Putting her hand on her hip, "Callie, come upstairs with me, please?"

"I have all my things," the girl mumbled, picking at a fringe on the placemat.

"That wasn't a request," Lena's voice compelled Callie to slide from the chair. When she got to the landing, Lena heard the kid's shower running. That was why she'd missed Stef. Turning to face Callie, Lena took a deep breath, "want to tell me what that was about?" Getting no answer other than a shrug, "OK. Tell me what that was about." She and Stef had realized the way they phrased things as an expectation rather than option, she would at least try.

Kicking her toe into the carpet, Callie met Lena's eyes, "I'll apologize to him. I didn't mean it. It's just this assignment." She shrugged, "I'm sorry."

"What assignment?" Lena asked, her voice softening a bit.

"We have to write a stupid letter to Martin Luther King, Jr. We read "Letters to Birmingham" yesterday," she explained quietly.

Lena pressed her lips together, studying Callie for a moment, "if you're having trouble with the work, talk to Timothy or I can help you this evening." Her offer being met with an intentional blank stare made Lena's eyes narrow. "What's this about?" Lena leaned against the wall as she again posed the question to Callie.

"Who writes letters?" Callie mumbled. Hearing Lena sigh, she looked up. "Look, it's just stupid. They're in jail, being beaten, starved for what?"

"Wait," Lena held up her hand. "It did count," she answered emphatically. "Dr. King and the other civil rights leaders changed history."

"For what? Saying some chants or sitting in a diner didn't change much. Hasn't changed much. If you're going to go to jail, make it freakin count."" Callie's voice was raising. "You don't get it, Lena, you've never been in jail. Never been stripped searched, or had that thick lice shampoo poured over you before you get locked in a room-"

"And you've never been Black," Lena fired back, standing up straight. Hearing her tone and watching as Callie instinctively took a step back from her almost stunned her. "Look, I get that you understand 'systems'," she air quoted, her voice falling back down. "I do." Looking up at the ceiling Lena tried to find the words for what she was feeling. "I'm just," she pulled her eyes back to Callie. Her daughter was looking at her expectantly. "I'm tired, frustrated, to be honest more than a little bit afraid for Mama's safety, and for the kid's out on the street. It's been a long few weeks. "

Uncrossing her arms, Callie's stare softened. "I'm sorry, Mama," she said. "For being rude to Brandon, too. I'm just, uh you know, sorry. I'll apologize to him," Callie tried to smooth things back over with Lena. She was skeptical of the whole conversation but needed time to think.

"Thank you for the apology," Lena wrapped Calie into a side hug. She understood Callie needed time to process what she'd said. Maybe they could have a longer discussion on race, the ongoing protests, and Callie's own experience in juvie; but that would unfortunately have to wait. Right now, they were late and Lena had to see Stef before leaving. "Get everyone in the vehicle. I am going to check on Mom and meet you all out there," she kissed Callie's temple, adding an extra squeeze. "Babe," Lena opened the door while knocking. The conversation with Callie had taken much of the time she had wanted to spend with Stef so she had to hurry.

"Morning, Love," Stef was at the sink, wrapped in a towel. "I heard you and Callie talking," she looked in the mirror as Lena came up behind her, slinking her arms around her waist. "What was that about?"

Lena closed her eyes, resting her chin on Stef's shoulder, "nothing. We'll talk about it later. Why are you up?"

Stef smiled tiredly. "Captain has called an emergency meeting for 9:30. Hernandez didn't say what was going on, just said it was mandatory. Least I got to see you," she hung up the towel, grabbing her lotion.

Lena returned the smile, "Yeah." Taking the bottle from Stef, she squeezed some of the lotion on her hand, rubbing it on her wife's back. She gave Stef a kiss, groaning feeling the mutual desperation. "We're going to bring dinner to the station this evening," she pulled away looking at Stef for confirmation.

"I love you," Stef confirmed. "Thank you," she kissed Lena again. "I really appreciate it," she added.

Lena nodded. "I think it's important, for all of us." Looking toward the door, she reluctantly stepped back, "I've got to go, Babe. I love you. Please, let me know what goes on in the meeting."

Stef laughed hearing Lena loudly asking Jesus why he wasn't in the car. She walked back into the bedroom and pulled out a uniform, listening as the car pulled out. She hoped the leaders of the protests had decided to finally negotiate with the Chief and Roberts was merely having a reception. There'd been rumors all week, though, that the organizers were planning something big this weekend. Taking a drink of the coffee she'd set on the dresser, Stef sighed. She needed a break. Her family needed her to have a break. Right now, though, duty called for her to get ready and to this meeting.


	3. Author's Note

Black Lives Matter ReDo

I'm not deleting my previous two chapters to this story. However, for a good while I've been believing this needed to be a series of one-shots, rather than a continuous story. Today, I've posted the first of these.

This extra note/Chapter isn't because this story is too great or whatever, it is because this next chapter: Sandra Bland's life and words are far more important than including an explanation on my writings. This woman and her words (in italics in the following chapter) matter. I chose a Sandy Speaks video (rather ordinary, about the Jackie Robinson West Little League team. This is because I wanted to show, her community matters to her. Read her words, please. Better yet, go watch her speak. .com

In the story, Sandra Bland, Lena speaks about the grand jury. A non-indictment for the Waller Co. jail staff isn't the end. They will reconvene for further considerations.


	4. Sandra Bland

Sandra Bland

**Please make sure you read the Author's Note posted before this.**

"_Good evening my Kings and my Queens. It is Sunday, February 15, 2015. We have about what 13 days in the month of February-13 days left in Black History month so what are you going to do out there to make your stamp? What are you gonna to do change not just Black history but American history? This week we saw probably one of the worst things that we could ever seen which was the stripping of that trophy from Jackie Robinson West. Now, when the kids were playing that game we supported them, we rallied behind them and we put them on-they, you know, they put this city on their back and carried us to this game. Carried us to that National Championship and really won and represented their city the best way that they could. So, we applaud you for that. So, now, two months later you guys want to take the trophy because of what? You know, the coach-" _

The oven timer went off pulling Lena's attention from the computer screen. Pausing the video, Lena closed the lid then walked to the oven, "dinners ready," she called, hopefully gathering the family.

"Hey, babe," Stef greeted, placing the salad she'd prepared earlier on the table. Lena's tense smile made her pause, "you ok?" She asked, placing a hand on Lena's back.

"Yeah," Lena nodded, her focus on the chicken.

Jesus walked into the kitchen, "smells good, Moms," he complimented. Unplugging the headphones from his phone, he placed it in a bowl. Grabbing plates he began to set the table.

"Need any help?" Callie asked.

"We're good," Lena answered.

Jesus interrupted, "yeah, grab the bowls."

"Please?" Callie rolled her eyes.

"Thanks," he grinned. "Please, will you grab the bowls," Jesus rephrased, picking up napkins to fold.

"I'll do drinks," Jude offered.

Turning to set the chicken on the table, Lena took a deep breath forcing herself to relax. Watching Jesus her mind traveled back to his Little League All-Star team. They certainly didn't make it to Williamsburg, PA, but the summer was a real turning point for her and Stef. The twins became a part of their heart, and subsequently a legal part of their family.

"Earth to Mama," Marianna waved her hand in front of Lena.

Giving her daughter a Look, Lena glanced around. Everyone was seated. "We're ready," she smiled, taking a seat.

"One more paper and half a day of school before Christmas break," Marianna said happily. "Then we can sleep in or stay up. Curfew is like weekend on breaks, right Moms?"

"Don't push it," Stef joked, pointing her fork at Marianna.

Jude, ever the peacemaker jumped in, "what's your paper about?"

"Equality vs equity," she shrugged. "I worked on it all weekend. Thought it would be a simple essay like all the others, but it's more complicated than it sounds."

Brandon looked up, "what do you mean?"

"OK, so equality is like the ideal or goal while equity is kind of the work that can achieve the goal. Take Mom for instance. I assume to join the police force officers have to achieve a standard of fitness, right? But for her to have to do the same number of push-ups as say, Mike would be unfair. Yet, she can't be a bum-," she explained.

Jesus jumped in, "Mom is not a bum. She can do as many pull-ups as I can."

"You're fifteen," Callie points out.

"And my favorite child right now. We do have different times and reps for our requirements," Stef interjects.

Marianna nods, "that's what I mean. Here, in California, there is a lot of talk about abolishing Affirmative Action. It's not really coming from the Community Colleges or majority of the people. There's a call from Berkley, Stanford-"

"Actually, there was a Supreme Court case on it very recently. Fisher v. University of Texas. You should check it out. Not that our Justice system really understands the nature of what is required to achieve equality, but yeah, check it out," Lena takes a bite of chicken.

Jude looked at her, "what do you mean? They make the laws, right?" He turned to Callie who nodded, "it's their job."

"It is their job," Lena agreed, "But, the trickle down who must enforce those laws. When you get sick or something, we take you to the clinic, right?" Her focus shifted to the whole table, "we don't and wouldn't call the Surgeon General. You'd never get better. We trust that Dr. Lewis or whoever has the knowledge and ability to treat you. The problem with waiting patiently for laws to be ruled on by the federal courts is the communities affected and people governed by these laws, continue to suffer-even die-because they're unequally enforced. I mean why does a white man in Waller, Texas charged with DUI get say $1,000 bail while a Black woman have a $5,000 bond for a traffic violation?" Met with silence and confused looks, Lena shook her head, "that's not a rhetorical question. It's a real life situation that had deadly consequences for a young woman, Sandra Bland."

"We read about her in Current Events. She was arrested for what, like not using a signal?" Callie asked, her voice holding a bit of unbelief. "Then they said she committed suicide, but it was really suspicious, right?"

Brandon continued, "that's right. The police officer was really rough with her or something. He threatened her with a Taser."

"Why?" Jesus asked.

"She didn't want to get out of the car, I think. I don't exactly remember. She was in Texas, right, Mama?" Brandon looked to Lena.

"Waller, Texas," she repeated.

"But why did she have to get out of the car and end up going to jail if all she did was fail to use a signal?" Jude questioned.

Callie shrugged, "he said she was being disrespectful or something like-"

"Because she was a Black woman," Marianna answered softly. "A Black woman in Texas. Right, Mom?" She looked up at Stef.

Slowly chewing the food in her mouth, Stef put down her fork, "I don't know, Marianna. I'm not the arresting officer-"

"Stef, that's the very definition of a cop out," Lena interrupted. "Answer our daughter's question, Babe," she challenged.

After a deep breath, Stef looked at Marianna, "look, we all know and are becoming more aware police have-"

"A difficult job," Callie interrupted this time. "We know."

"OK," Stef gestured, "Marianna, the answer to your question is most likely, yes. The young lady was probably stopped because she is Black. The male patrol officer probably didn't appreciate being challenged by a woman. So, yes, her interaction with police probably began because of who she was rather than what she did or did not do." She looked at Lena with raised eyebrows.

"He didn't kill her, though," Brandon pointed out. "She died a few days after her arrest in jail."

"Sounds like she shouldn't have been in there in the first place," Jesus observed reaching for his water. "I wonder why she committed suicide, though. If she'd already been there a few days-"

"She didn't commit suicide," Lena said at the exact same time Callie interrupted, "you've never been in jail, Jesus." The mother and daughter both stopped, looking at the other. Lena nodded for Callie to continue. "Being locked up isn't like the movies. In juvie we were really only restricted to our 'rooms'," she air quoted, "at night. But to hear the doors lock, it's, I don't know," she trailed off. "Plus, you guys never really been cuffed or arrested? It's a lot different from having your parents' buddies put handcuffs on you," she added glancing at Brandon who was suddenly really interested in his chicken.

A brief quiet fell over the table. Marianna and Jesus thinking about the violence of their mother being arrested many times in front of them. Jude's thoughts were on Callie's words. They took him back to the time of their first separation, Callie's first arrest.

"The truth is, we can't judge the actions of a police officer," Stef offered. "We have to have rule of law to have a safe society."

"A grand jury judged at least the actions of the county jail staff to be justified," Lena countered. "Put in that situation, what would you have done, Stef?"

"Lena, I'm not answering that," Stef's voice held an edge.

Marianna looked at her Mom, "why not? That's the very argument I'm stuck on with this paper. How can neighborhoods with less resources be policed with the same mindset as say ours? Like who is the safe society for?"

"It's supposed to be for everyone," Jude allowed. "Right, Mama?" Lena nodded. "But it's not. Look at what happened when Callie had to go to hearings for Liam," he pointed out quietly.

After watching Callie's cheeks color, Lena spoke, "the reality of America, across the board, really is race determines many interactions with law enforcement. Then wealth and/or privilege has a lot to do with how the justice system works. Brandon is less likely to be stopped or arrested than Jesus. We can't pretend it's an equal society." She raised a hand to stop her wife from interrupting, "but at the moment, it is what we have. I believe," Lena stopped, "I have to believe it will and is changing. I've been watching these videos Sandra Bland made, Sandy Speaks. All things equal she should and certainly would be making history instead of being a lesson in Current Events. The, I guess, anger," she tried to search for the right word, "yeah, anger I feel, and the country is expressing now isn't directed at you, Officer Adams-Foster or necessarily police officers in general," her voice softening as she gave Stef a sad smile. "Couple that with the seemingly needless deaths, many now caught on video. Outrage is expected. A group of people are in pain. I know you, Stef, know you see that. The question, a rhetorical one," Lena clarified, "do your fellow officers?"

Stef sat at the table. The kids had finished and cleared their plates. Marianna requested Lena look over her paper so Stef was alone for about ten minutes, thinking on the dinner conversation. This had been a consistent perhaps quieter conversation between she and Lena for 14 months now. Tonight, Lena seemed different. Angrier even. Stef heard of Sandra Bland, but Lena's passion for the young lady made her more curious. Stef knew she couldn't have Lena's life experience. The harassment by law enforcement Lena shared made Stef sick. However, she had no excuse or defense for not learning more. Picking the laptop off of the counter, Stef opened the lid and a browser. Youtube popped up, a video seemingly paused. Putting on her glasses, Stef realized this was a Sandy Speaks video, most likely what Lena had been talking about. She pushed play.

"_-who bought the allegations up about whatever-zoning, districts maps. Y'all, that is crap. That is absolute crap. You all did two separate investigations back when this first came up, and the Little League itself assured us that that team had done nothing wrong. So now, why is it, in February all of a sudden this new information has come up. That is required, that required you all to take that trophy from them. That's crap. That's BS. That is total BS. But on the flip side of that, all you people out there sending that Coach death threats, that is pure ignorance on itself, too. You are doing too much. Stop it. What are you showing the kids that you would kill over a Little League baseball? No. Then you are just as ignorant as them. All we can do now is just support them kids, support those young Princes and let them know, great job. Although, they might have took that trophy, they could never take away those things you experienced. The things that some of us will never get the chance to do. So, we applaud you for that. We need to step up now and let them know, we are not going to stand by idly and let this go on. That Jackie Robinson West situation, it does not need to get just swept up under the rug because-"_

Stef looked up as she felt Lena's chin on one shoulder and hand on another. She took the hand, turning back to the video.

"_-and February. What new evidence was bought up that required their title to be taken. What was it? Or is the better question, how much money was offered this time? These same little kids have to walk five, ten blocks to school sometimes because there's not adequate bussing system to get this to school. Ya know, so if they just playin', playin' a game what is the big deal? And also how hypocritical are we being the Cheatriots, New England, pro. On a professional level you got these men making millions of dollars. They cheated! We knew they cheated and what did they get? The Lambo trophy, the MVP award, and big 'ole dumb endorsement and bonus checks. So, what are we showing kids? If you can cheat on a professional level and get paid for it but as a child where nothing is under your control: we'll strip your title away. You young men, you Princes, Sandy is letting you know you are still great. What you did was awesome. None of us can ever take that away from you. We are proud of you all. Every last one of y'all. And every young man out there that wants to be on the next Jackie West Robinson team or just-y'all, we have to get out here and motivate our kids. They are our future and they are what's important. So, we gotta go to work y'all. We gotta stop playin'. We have to take care of these kids and it's not just-uh hear me clear. It's not just about strippin' the title that bothers me, it is the way that that was done. And so if it bothered you just like it bothered me, we need to voice our opinion and say something. Sandy's speakin' what about you? Have a good day." _

The video stopped. This was an articulate, inspired young woman, Stef could easily recognize that. Leaning her head back onto Lena's chest, Stef closed her eyes, "the whole damn system is guilty as hell, Babe."

_**Italicized words are by Sandra Bland. She was murdered by Brian Encinia. Ms. Bland died on July 13, 2015, most likely suffering a subdural brain bleed caused when Encinia slammed her to the ground as he took her into custody on July 10, 2015. These aren't immediately fatal and can spontaneously reabsorb post mortem. Her autopsy shows no petechiae small hemorrhage in eyes/skin, hyoid bone intact, no bruising in the neck. These findings prove there was no possible way Ms. Bland hung herself. YouTube videos of 'Sandy Speaks' are powerful. A website sandystillspeaks contains these videos, too. The A/N prior deleted the link. Her life matters. Her murder and the injustices still being perpetrated by Texas officials matter. I know The Fosters is television, and fanfiction is fiction. Right now, even in this season, fluff doesn't feel right. Sandra Bland's family will celebrate without her. #SayHerName**_


	5. John Crawford

#JohnCrawfordIII

A/N: This originally had a different name. Unfortunately. John Crawford III was a 22 year old Black man, killed in a Walmart while playing with a toy gun. The gun was unpackaged, and it's very existence in the hands of a Black man was enough for Beavercreek Police officers to justify murdering him on sight. Never a threat to anyone, John was browsing the store, on the phone to his girlfriend. Ohio is an open carry state as we see now with the RNC taking place. Ms. Sherrod lost a son. Mr. Crawford lost a son. Ms. Trimm lost a grandson. Two children lost a father. #BLM

"Good morning, Baby," Dana walked in, grocery bags hanging from her arms.

Lena quickly jumped up, "Mom. Here," she grabbed at a bag in each hand, "let me help you." Setting the first load on the table, she turned as Dana handed her another bag. "You and Daddy didn't have to bring all of this food. I'm not even sure all the kids will be here."

"Yes, Lena. I know we didn't have to," she raised an eyebrow holding up fresh fruit. "We passed this little produce stand trying to navigate from the Greene's yesterday. Your father was frustrated, I was hot, believe me it was our pleasure to stop."

Grinning, Lena set some juice in the refrigerator. Then smelled the bag of herbs. The strong odor had a South East Asian flare. Growing up with the campus community, Lena was surrounded by a small piece of a lot of the world. Indian or Thai herbs and spices seemed to make you remember them. Bold, pungent she hadn't had really good Indian food for a long time. "These are wonderful," Lena closed the door.

"You are wonderful," Dana folded Lena into a hug. She breathed in the scent of Lena's hair. Regardless of age, style and there'd been a few, Lena's hair always smells like Dana remembered the first few moments of her life. It was nice. "So, my grandbabies are leaving their Grandparents on New Year's Eve?"

"What can I say," Lena took two mugs from the cupboard, "they go from the hot chocolate and living room campout to cheap beer and beach pretty quickly now. Daddy," Lena kissed her father's cheek, taking a bag from his hand. "You look good." She turned back to the counter. "Coffee?"

"He looks good?" A smile played at Dana's lips. She raised her eyebrows as her daughter turned for an answer, "yes, please. Two?" Stewart nodded. "See, Darling, I told you eating cleaner would have a positive result," Dana nodded at her husband.

Shrugging, Stewart took the cups from Lena, "the only reason Lena noticed me is because I'm standing next to you." He captured Dana's smile in a kiss, handing her the cup. Pivoting to Lena, he gave her a side hug and kissed her cheek, "but that's nothing new."

Lena squeezed her father, breaking away to finish with the groceries. She heard movement from upstairs and glanced at the clock. "Someone's up early," she observed. The bathroom door slammed loudly. Instinctively, Lena went to the stairwell to yell. Stopping herself, "I forget sometimes they are on break," she turned sheepishly back to her parents.

"No, I've had it," Marianna yelled back up the stairs. Being abruptly woken for the second time during winter break, she'd reached her breaking point with her brother. "No, I'm not going to shut up," she stood her ground on the stairs. "You're ridiculous. You and your stupid boyfriend. I'm done with it," her voice rose, amplified by the stairwell.

"Knock it off," Jude yelled as Jesus went back into the bedroom. "Stop being so loud. You're ridiculous," he mumbled.

"Can't forget my wallet," he rummaged around his desk. "You seen my wallet?" He asked Jude.

"Actually, it's right here," Lena pressed her lips together, standing in the boys doorway. She held up the wallet.

"Sorry you don't have friends to hang out with. Must suck," Jesus stepped around Lena, "aww, Fairy Fingers, did my social life interfered with your beauty sleep?" He reached for his wallet acknowledging his older brother.

"Enough," Lena moved the wallet from Jesus' reach. She glared at Jesus as he tried to grab it. "Grams is in the kitchen," she smiled at Brandon.

"Grams is here already," Jesus brightened, "Grandad too?"

"Yes, Grandad, too," Lena confirmed, grasping Jesus' arm as he tried to rush downstairs. "You need to take a minute," she put her hand to his chest. "Just take a minute and focus yourself."

Jesus drew in a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Opening his eyes, he grinned at Lena, "I'm centered." His eyes darted between the two stairwells, the bathroom, and the girl's open door. Unreleased, he again found Lena's eyes. Jesus covered Lena's hand.

She breathed deeply a few more times, feeling Jesus' tension lessen a little each time, "better," Lena conceded. "Take your medicine this morning, please." Satisfied with Jesus' agreement, Lena handed him the wallet. "Sorry, honey," she apologized to Jude, "get some more rest. It's going to be a long night." Lena quietly shut the door. Walking down the steps, she smiled at the lively kitchen.

"Mama made me take some of them down. But next year, Grandma is going to take me shopping on black Friday. It's going to be amazing," Jesus excitedly explained to Stewart. He looked at his phone, "sorry Gramps, I gotta go. See you guys at dinner," Jesus hugged Dana.

Stef glanced up at the clock. "You've called Nick's phone too?" She asked Marianna again. "I don't know, Love, let's start without him," she shrugged at Lena. The family was all gathered for the traditional New Year's Eve meal. "Dana, Stewart, please lead the way," she waved toward the kitchen table.

Lena sighed in half relief as she picking up her ringing phone. "You're late, Son," she said. "Oh, I'm sorry, Sir," she walked out of the noisy kitchen. "What? Is he ok? I see. No, my wife and I will be right there. Thank you," Lena quickly grabbed her purse, "Stef, come on," she called. "Now, we have to go. Jesus is at the hospital," Lena's voice quivered.

"Babe," Stef was confused, "slow down. What's going on?"

"That was Sergeant something. I don't know what happened. I just know Jesus is under arrest and at the hospital. Come on," she urged. "Don't just look at me, Stefanie, get your purse. We need to go."

Dana and Stef traded concerned looks, "Honey, what did the Sergeant say?" Dana asked gently.

"He said, your son, Jesus Adams-Foster, was involved in an incident this afternoon. We currently have him in custody at San Diego General Hospital. He is in good condition," she repeated, tears on her cheeks.

"Do you want us to come?" Stewart put his arm around his daughter.

"No, I want my wife to hurry up," Lena pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "You guys stay here. Now, Stef."

"You're still up?" Dana walked into the kitchen. Taking the half empty wine bottle from the table, she set it in the refrigerator. "Why don't we switch to tea?" Hearing no objection, Dana filled the tea kettle, set some mugs on the counter, and prepared the tea bags. She noticed Lena's blank stare. The only indication of life was the small rise and fall of her chest. Removing the whistling tea kettle, Dana filled the mugs and carried them to the table. Sitting at the end, she scooted the cup to Lena. Mother and daughter sat, the silence speaking more than words.

Lena felt someone grab her hand. She looked, almost startled at Dana's presence. "Mom?" She noticed the tea, gratefully taking a sip. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize," she shook her head.

"It's ok, Baby," Dana answered softly. She took a deep breath, watching Lena.

"Stef is being unreasonable. She goes from not understanding why I am so upset to handing in her badge first thing tomorrow. I just couldn't any longer," Lena shook her head. "I mean, that is our son. Does she not understand that? Our baby boy," she trailed off, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Dana pulled her daughter close, "he's not a baby or boy anymore, Sweetheart." Her words carried double meaning. Jesus' last growth spurt added thirty pounds of muscle and height. After today, Dana feared his soul was beginning to catch up with his body.

"That's what Stef said," Lena pulled back bitterly. "He should know better. He has to take responsibility. You can't protect him from everything, Lena," she parrotted her wife. "She didn't see what I saw, though. My son was in shackles, Mom. Shackled, with gauze covering his entire face, lying there with this big white man standing over him holding this yellow taser, the prongs of which were lodged in my son's back. Who then intercepted me, saying, please stay away from the prisoner." She bit her lip keeping the sobs from escaping.

"I'm so sorry, Baby," Dana rested her forehead on the side of Lena's head. She stood, enveloping her daughter. "So, sorry," she tried to soothe her daughter. This wasn't the first time Dana had heard about the family's evening, and it wouldn't be the last.

"He's not perfect, I'm not trying to say that," Lena reasoned. She broke from Dana and continued, "I'm not asking he be absolved of responsibility. He was breaking many laws. That isn't in dispute. I just wish those cops and even doctors hadn't-," she stopped shuddering. "They acted like he wasn't human. Just a report to be filled out. And my wife, is that how she looks at people she arrests? I mean," Lena just trailed off.

Dana listened to her daughter, rubbing circles on her back, "no one is perfect, Lena. Not me, Jesus, you, the officers, doctors, or Stef. Conversely, everyone has humanity. Yes, Jesus is responsible for his actions. As is the young man he was with, his parents, and even you and Stef responsible for your roles. You asked him no questions as he was leaving," she explained when Lena gave her a confused look. "I'm not saying he would've told you. You didn't ask-"

"That's not-" Lena interrupted her mother only to be stopped.

"Lena," Dana put her hand on Lena's arm, "we don't have the luxury of not asking anymore. You are raising a Brown, teenage son. A Brown teenage son who at times has difficulty thinking through his actions. You don't get to define fairness. It's not fair or unfair, it's simply fact. My beautiful, loving, and thoughtful grandson sleeping in the room beside his brother isn't seen as so by law enforcement," she shook her head sadly. "Especially, when he has a pistol between his leg, and tactical gun under the car seat," her voice caught. Dana hadn't been able to get the what ifs from her mind since Stef, Lena, and Jesus walked through the door.

Lena put her hand over her mom's, "Mom, we could've lost him," she shook.

After Dana's tears stopped, she dabbed her cheeks, "you know your wife better than that, Lena," she began gently. "She is kind, gracious, protective, and amazing. Not perfect," she smiled at her daughter, "but she's human, too, Love. You married a woman who happens to be a cop, not a cop who happens to be your wife. We can't live in the land of coulds, my Dear, we will go crazy. You can't expect her to see what you saw, Lena. She has a different perspective"

Lena relaxed a little and took another drink, "yeah. I just hate that my children live in a world so defined by how they look. It's scary."

"Terrifying," Dana agreed. "And you will have to figure out how to help them best navigate it. Together with your wife." She finished her tea and set the up in the sink. "Now, I must get some rest. You might want to think of doing the same. Go, check in on your son. Make sure he isn't too congested and his skin isn't too red. The effects of the spray will last a few days," Dana advised. She'd read Jesus' discharge papers. "Don't trip over my grandaughters," she smiled walking up the steps. "Love you," Dana added.

"Love you too, Mom," Lena called after her. She sat at the table, listening as the house once again fell silent.


End file.
